


Facedown

by risingtides



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Dreams, Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, this doesnt make any sense im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risingtides/pseuds/risingtides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a dream I had involving Matty Healy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facedown

**Author's Note:**

> Had this dream near the end of August and after reading what I wrote about regarding my dream, I felt inspired to make a short little story of it. It hardly makes sense, interpret it as you will. Enjoy xx

_"Broken heads in hospital beds"_

 

Swirling around again, completely lost. She doesn't know where they are, everything has dissolved around them, they are floating. The two of them, her and Matty. He stares at her, eyes wide and searching and noting. He thinks she is beautiful, and she is. Her hair floats like they are in outer space but she still feels tied to the Earth. They are somewhere unknown, she doesn't mind.

 

_"Saving ends and pulling your friends"_

 

She feels celestial, and she is certain that Matty feels the same. In this floating space they drift closer, he's got fingers in her hair, other hand on her neck. Their position in the world is uncertain, she perceives the area as water, submerged thousands of meters below. Her breathing is normal, hitching when he draws closer with lips only centimeters from her own. If she needs to come up for air it is only because he has sucked it out of her.

 

_"While you're chasing the first line"_

 

He is a drug. He has you hooked. Soft fingers press into his shoulders; this is not real. Is this real? It doesn't feel real. It's the drugs, you know it.

 

_"We made it through"_

 

Lips are locked to his and whatever fix you craved before is upped times a million. Tongues meshing, bodies pressed, bodies floating, just floating. The hues of orange and pink like a gorgeous sunset flash faintly. She can't distinguish between her body or his, where the lights end or begin. Everything is one.

 

_"He's black and blue and facedown"_

 

Matty is alive, more than alive. This is better than the drugs, he would abandon them if he could have this forever, she believes it. They'll stay forever.

 

_"She's rushing in your bed"_

 

The things she would give to have this forever, the one good thing that isn't fleeting. She cannot feel her bones, she doesn't feel real, none of this is. Or all of it is. Time is forgotten, time doesn't exist wherever they are. Just them, locked together. She won't let go for a long time.

 

_"You take draws to sort your head facedown"_

 

He's singing in her ear again, lips so close she can feel each breath as he whispers lyrics she cannot remember. Fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, to reassure herself that this is real. He is so real, and he is so beautiful. She feels like she cannot breathe again, like water rushing into her lungs. He kisses her again and her head sorts out. 

 

_"Then he said I lost my head"  
_

 

She doesn't remember when they fell asleep, or disappeared, the moment flashing in an instant; time exists. It is the early morning, soft lights still wisping around her, she remains where they have been. Matty is no where to be found, not a trace of him left, and she wonders, saddened.

 

_"Can you see it?"_

 

He's off again and she knows why. Nothing could defeat the fix he needs, always. She would never be enough, no matter if they spent an entire century together. It felt like they had, yet nothing would feel better to him than the straight lines. She will never know better. She will sees for what it is, and she will always return each time, waiting.


End file.
